Regretful
by Knight of The Clow
Summary: Hinata had been trying to kill herself for several times. But she successfully over it after she asked her headmaster to punish her. What happen when the father-like figure headmaster suddenly replaced by a new man who is a lot younger than him?
1. Chapter 1

**WARNING!**

**Characters Age:**

** Hinata Hyuuga 17 years old**

** Sabaku no Gaara 28 years old**

** Sarutobi 60 years old retired**

**Now, on with the story.**

* * *

She sat fidgeting nervously, staring at his chin in an effort to avoid meeting his knowing eyes. The silence in the room grew deafening.

"I asked you a question." The voice, a deep, sensual rumbling, slid silkily over her skin and heightened her senses.

Clearing her throat, she faintly voiced a reply. "I think so, yes."

He rocked back in his chair and tented long, tapering fingers in front of his nose. "Do you, really?" The question, posed softly, sounded rhetorical.

Her gaze flew up to meet the startling aquamarine of his eyes, currently leveled at her with caged intensity. She repressed a strong urge to squirm.

Dropping her eyes, she lifted a stubborn chin and spoke softly. "The agreement was between me and your predecessor. Frankly, I don't see how this concerns you."

Raising his brows, he studied her pale features, the flawless bone structure with a light speckling of freckles. The pale-lavender eyes he'd seen flash at him piqued his interest, but he was more curious about the fresh scars he'd seen covering her wrists. Dozens of them.

"My predecessor's part in your agreement ended on the day of his retirement. My part began when I opened his letter of instruction."

Opening a drawer, he lifted out a flat envelope and pulled out the letter it contained. "Shall I read it to you?"

Taking her pained silence for consent, he began to read.

"Dear Gaara,

In and among the many duties of which I'm sure by now you've been inundated, I bequeath one more. And it is because of my deep trust and respect for your discretion that I pass this task on to you,

Six months ago, Hinata Hyuuga, a quiet, young junior, attempted to take her life. No combination of counselors, therapists, or teachers were able to encourage her to speak openly on the subject. She remained an enigma.

Until the day she stepped into my office several months ago and, with guilt-ridden eyes, made a proposal. She said she realized her action was rash, emotional, and irreversible. She thought at the time she truly wanted to die. Upon the realization that it wasn't going to be so easy to accomplish, she immediately truly wanted to erase the proof of her efforts. By this time the slashes in her arms had either stopped bleeding or barely bled. She showed me the scars with a derisive snort and the comment, "Sign of a persistent coward." Her desperate act separated her true friends from her acquaintances – "always good to know" I believe was her comment – and merely bemused or horrified everyone close to her. The problem, as she sees it, is that no one truly became angry with her. "Why doesn't someone grab and shake me, scold me? How can I get over this guilt if it just lays there, ignored?" When I asked her at this point how I could help, she blushed and, staring a hole in the ground, awkwardly replied, "I wish just one person would put me over their knee, spank me until I cry, and make me promise never to consider such an idea again." Raising welled eyes, she whispered, "I was hoping you would do that for me."

Gaara, in my many years as principal of this high school, I've warmed many tender young bottoms, not one of which asked for the privilege. Her request stunned me. I asked to see the scars racing across her wrists. The more I studied them and her guilt-ridden features, the easier my decision became. Only I suggested that one trip to my office would hardly balance the scales. I suggested one trip for each scar she created. After some hesitation, she agreed. And she has visited this office one day a week for the past four months. Eighteen visits. Eighteen trips over my knee. And with each week, I see her self-loathing fade and her confidence increase.

I'm retiring now, as you know, mid-term, and our agreement is far from completed. For her sake, I hope you will consider taking on this delicate task. The number of remaining visits I will let you count on her wrists yourself. I would bet a large sum of money that this task alone gains your enthusiastic participation. But I leave the decision up to you.

I've always had the highest respect for you as a friend and as a colleague. Be well.

Sarutobi, Third Hokage."

Gaara carefully refolded the letter and placed it back into its envelope, keeping his direct gaze on her. Sitting back and folding his arms, he waited for her response.

Her thoughts played clearly across her features and watching her, he held his amusement in check. Finally, her voice broke forth.

"But I knew Sandaime-sama. He was kind and understanding." Her eyes held faint panic. "I don't know you … or what you'd do to me."

He remained silent, but his eyes narrowed slightly.

Sputtering, she continued. "I trusted him. He didn't frighten me like you … " Stopping mid-sentence, her mouth fell open. She hadn't meant to admit that. "Well …. I don't know you, do I? You're hardly a father figure to me." The reference to his age nearly made him smile. He was a good 30 years younger than his predecessor.

"May I point out that I am at least twice your age?" His droll voice cut through her scattered thoughts.

"But … but …" how did she say his dark-rimmed eyes made squirm shamelessly in bed at night? That his voice alone made her want to touch herself intimately. That the mere sight of him standing silently in a crowded hallway made her legs weaken and her breath catch?

Lifting and slapping the envelope against an open palm, he stated flatly, "I consider this letter alone my authorization to continue your request. My only issue is the frequency of your 'sessions.' So I'll ask you once again, do you believe once a week is adequate punishment for your actions?"

Caught once more in his direct gaze, she felt her limbs weaken, and swallowed hard. "What do you think would be adequate?" The petulance in her tone did nothing to help her situation.

Reaching forward, he snagged one slender wrist and pulled her forward over his desk. Taking hold of her other wrist, he lay them both facing up and studied the scars closely.

She felt the blood rush to her face in aching embarrassment and tried in vain to tug her hands free.

Raising lethal eyes to her, he took in her accelerated breathing and heightened color. Speaking slowly, in a voice tinged with dark velvet, he replied, "Your current arrangement is a –what – 15 minute visit each Friday afternoon before you head home for the weekend? My suggestion would be to move that to before your first class in the morning. I think a full day of sitting on hard chairs with a tender bottom is the least you should experience. My next suggestion is that once a week is wholly inadequate as a reminder of your infraction. You should be spanked, daily, for this atrocity. Perhaps not as soundly as your weekly visit, but enough to make you uncomfortably aware of your bottom for the first few hours of the day. That would be fair and just."

She sputtered and nearly choked on her reply. "Daily! Are you insane?"

"Was this sane?" With 'this' he held her wrists up to her eyes and watched her flinch. Releasing her wrists he watched her stumble back and stare, wide-eyed, at him. The room remained silent, with the exception of her harsh breathing, for three long minutes. He saw the moment her mind was made up. Saw the resignation mingled with dread flit across her face, and the bloom of her cheeks as, with eyes down, she whispered a response.

"How many?" She waited endlessly for his reply, finally raising her eyes to catch and freeze in his direct look.

"How many, what?" He watched her annoyed frown with a small smile.

Sighing heavily, she responded, "Each morning, how many times will you … " she rolled her hand in the air searching for word, "hit me?"

"I don't think we need a specific count." He tapped fingers in front of his face, watching her closely. "Perhaps a certain amount of time? Say, sixty seconds?"

Watching him narrowly, she spat out, "15 seconds."

"Thirty, then. Thirty seconds each morning in which you agree to lay obediently across my lap and submit to a quick, but thorough, spanking."

They held each others eyes for a long minute, his look firm and compelling, hers; guilty and frightened.

Swallowing hard, she murmured, "Okay." Leaning down, she snatched up her books and bolted for the door. His hand slapped the mahogany, preventing her retreat. Raising damp eyes to his, he saw a hint of anger and smiled softly.

"We'll start today." Stepping back from the door, he started to remove his jacket. "Put down your books, please."

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**WARNING!**

**Characters Age:**

** Hinata Hyuuga 17 years old**

** Sabaku no Gaara 28 years old**

** Sarutobi 60 years old retired**

**Now, on with the story.**

* * *

Feeling a trembling begin in the depths of her belly, Hinata, dropped her books and took a hesitant step toward the new vice-principal. Her face burned with shame and she wished yet again that the Third Hokage hadn't decided to pass the buck onto his replacement. Having an older, well respected man you could think of as your grandfather punish you was one thing. Having a young, darkly handsome, frighteningly masculine man do it was quite another.

Raising one leg and half sitting on the edge of his desk, Gaara shoved the knick-knacks and paperwork out of his way with one long arm. Looking into her pale eyes, he reached his hand forward and took her by the elbow.

"Are you going to lower your panties, or shall I?" He held her gaze, watching her blush deepen.

Sighing shakily, she lowered her eyes and reached under her short skirt, tugging down the scrap of silky material and stepping out of them when they fell to her ankles.

She felt herself tugged forward and lifted easily by the waist to be placed tightly across his upper thigh. His left hand lay firmly across the small of her back, forcing her bottom to tilt upward. The tips of her toes barely reached the floor. She felt helpless and apprehensive and found herself tensing her body.

Lifting her skirt, he felt her flinch and saw her muscles tightening. Speaking quietly, he rubbed his hand briefly on her back. "You need to relax, or this is going to hurt for a lot longer than it should."

He watched her shudder and slowly let go.

"Watch the second hand on the clock in front of you and when it reaches the top of the minute, call out each second as it strikes."

His low, reasonable voice calmed and frightened her at the same time.

"Yes, sir." She whispered.

Lowering his eyes to the pale, rounded skin, he smiled to himself and raised a flat hand high.

"One." The word barely left her mouth before the heavy slap jarred her body forcing a squeak of pained surprise.

"Two, ohhhhh!" The next slap landed on the other cheek, shocking her once more. Sarutobi-sama had never struck her this hard.

"Three ….. ow!" Falling on the same spot, the blow caused a burning sensation to spread.

"Fourrrrr ohhh!" The sting grew stronger with each slap.

"Five. Ohhh!" Hinata watched the clock with growing horror. Thirty seconds? She'd die!

"Six!" A deep voice intoned when she missed her cue accompanied by another burning slap.

"Seven." Hinata's voice raised several notes as she flinched.

"Eight." Her ass felt enflamed and she tired to squirm to avoid his hand.

"Nine. Ahhhh!" How could he strike her this hard? How could he be so mean?

"Ten!" His voice and wicked palm took over once more.

By 15 seconds, she'd lost her ability to count aloud, and began struggling to get out of his hold.

Frowning, he doubled his efforts.

"Sixteen." Smack! Smack!

"Seventeen!" Smack! Smack!

"Eighteen!" Smack! Smack!

Every inch of her ass felt as if it were on fire and she felt a sob escape before she could stop it.

"Nineteen! Smack! Smack! Her pale skin had by now turned a soft shade of red in the form of large handprints.

"Twenty!" Smack! Smack!

"Twenty-one!" Smack! Smack!

Hinata felt almost senseless with the pain, unaware of the tears streaming from her eyes.

"Twenty-two! Twenty-three! Twenty-four! Twenty-five." She stopped her struggling and began crying in earnest as the last ten blows landed on her burning skin.

Releasing her, he watched her stumble to her feet and stare at him, open-mouthed with tears streaming from wide vivid white eyes.

"Ooo hooo hhhhh! How … how … how could you?" The question, filtered through tears, came haltingly in a shocked voice as she carefully rubbed her tender skin.

Raising dark brows, he looked pointedly at her wrists and replied, "How could you?"

A white hot flash of rage flashed through her, and she heard the slap before it registered that she'd raised her hand. The red handprint forming on his left cheek filled her with an immediate sense of horror, and a choked sob escaped her as, hands to her mouth, she watched the storm brewing in his eyes.

The internal debate ended quickly as he tugged her by the arms to stand trembling before him. In a soft, low voice, he informed her, "Perhaps I was too harsh. Obviously, I need more practice until I have the proper method down." He felt her shaking, her fear nearly palpable. "To that end, you will report to this office prior to each of your remaining classes today, for a brief training session." He held her when she would have jerked away.

"If, by the end of the day, you've learned how to behave in my presence, we'll resume our once a day schedule."

The tears started up again, at first in relief that he wasn't going to immediately retaliate in kind, then in helpless resignation that she would have to experience the humiliation and pain 6 more times that very day.

Putting his face very close to hers, he added in a deep tone, "And if you ever choose to slap me, or even attempt to slap me, again … I will bruise your behind. Do you understand?"

Her "Yes, sir," came out in a shaky whisper.

Releasing her arms, he glanced at his watch. "I'll see you back here in 50 minutes."

He turned and sat behind his desk, ignoring her panty retrieval and sniffling exit. Flexing his hand, he winced, then raised a hand to his stinging cheek, and shook his head. It wasn't the shock of his hand striking her bare ass that had set her off.

It was his sarcastic reference to the fact that she bloody well deserved it.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**WARNING!**

**Characters Age:**

** Hinata Hyuuga 17 years old**

** Sabaku no Gaara 28 years old**

** Sarutobi 60 years old retired**

**Now, on with the story.**

* * *

Hinata jerked when the bell sounded, startled out of her reverie. She slowly reached to gather her purse and books. Deep in thought, she trailed behind the other students, walking the length of the hallway in a near trance. Nearing the vice-principal's office, she took a sudden detour into the girl's bathroom and quickly hid in one of the stalls. Resting her forehead against the cool tiled wall, she shut her eyes and sighed shakily.

Four times she'd returned to his office. Four times, she was held captive over his lap, and brought swiftly to helpless tears. The sting lasted the duration of each class, made worse by the hard chairs she'd never thought of as cruel before today.

Only the last time, the last trip, she'd felt something else. Something mingling with the pain. Surrounding it. Dulling it. She'd still cried. Still squirmed to avoid his hand – despite her promise to lie docilely across his lap. But a warmth had seeped in, a brief surge of excitement, a familiar tug. The urge to touch herself, intimately, afterwards had stunned her, causing her to spend very little time focused on the teacher or teachings in her last class of the day, and the majority of the time on dark fantasies about her punisher.

She'd die, absolutely die, if she reached orgasm over his knee. Die if he knew her body responded in such an inappropriate way.

She moved a hand slowly under her skirt and down the front of her silk panties, touching her already swollen sex. Moving her fingers quickly and lightly, she hoped - with quick release - the urge would disappear. Her left hand splayed out on the tiled wall as her hips moved rhythmically against her hand. Thinking of his deep aquamarine eyes that seemed to see past her defenses, his powerful slaps that forced her to feel, his muscled thigh pressing against her intimately, she came quietly with a low moan.

When her breathing turned steady, she tidied up, and moved quickly to his office.

He was sitting on the edge of his desk, arms crossed, foot tapping, when she arrived.

"You're late." His deep voice and steady look sent color to her face.

"I had to run by the restroom, sir." She lowered her eyes, terrified he would see more than she cared to share.

He remained silent while she set her belongings in a chair, and moved hesitantly to stand before him. Without a word, she hooked her thumbs around the elastic band of her panties and let them fall.

Lifting her chin with a gentle hand, he studied her briefly before murmuring, "Good girl."

The mild praise sent an inexplicable thrill through her and she nearly smiled before she was snagged by the waist and pulled across his lap. The cool air on her naked skin reminded her all too soon of her plight.

"Count." His flat tone nearly caused her to whimper.

"One." The open handed blow landed firmly and loudly, causing her to flinch.

"Two." Blood rushed immediately to the offended area, made tender by frequent abuse.

"Three." Another stinging slap brought instant heat but, curiously, seemed less painful than before.

"Four. Five. Six." She flinched with each blow, but somehow didn't seem to mind. In fact …

"Seven." His voice intoned with a heavier slap, forcing a gasp. Shutting her eyes against the sudden rush of warmth to her groin, she bit back a moan.

"Eight." He continued at her silence, curious at the change in her response.

"Nine. Ten." By this count last time, he'd heard her cry. She couldn't possibly be numb. He could see her start with each smack. Perhaps he needed to increase speed. And velocity.

"Eleven!" Smack! Smack! A quick, heavy slap to each pink cheek followed by …

"Twelve!" Smack! Smack!

"Thirteen!" Smack! Smack!

The sharp, quick blows were falling without pause, peppering every inch of her exposed ass, as she turned and twisted to avoid them. Judging from the increasing sounds of dismay emitting from her, he knew he'd managed to get her complete attention. But something felt off, and softening his blows, he forgot to count as he studied her redden, rounded flesh, watched her squirming movements, and suddenly, it hit him. The musky scent of her arousal. Her movements – subtle, sensual, alluring.

Standing suddenly, he caught her around the mid-drift and twisted her to press up against him, holding her slender wrists in one hand behind her back, and tilting her head back with a handful of hair. His penetrating eyes bore into hers, taking in the drooping lids, labored breathing, flushed cheeks.

Pinned to him, forced to meet his eyes, she felt her heart beating rapidly in her chest, and thought she'd melt under his piercing gaze.

"This changes things." He spoke slowly, softly, with a faint frown.

"What? What do you mean?" Her forced her reply through numb lips. The entire length of her body warmed at the contact of his long, lean form. Her heated ass burned slowly, a softer fire than the heat currently coursing through her veins, converging at the apex of her thighs. She fought the almost overpowering urge to rub herself against him like a cat in heat.

Leveling her with a look, he raised a brow. "You're enjoying this."

His words sent a flush across her cheeks as she shook her head to deny it.

Moving his lips to her ear, he murmured deeply, "I can tell."

"No." The word barely left her mouth when his right hand dropped to ride up her bare thigh and caress her naked, heated flesh. When he squeezed and pressed her forward to straddle his thigh, she emitted a low moan and shut her eyes.

Taking in her flushed, features, her open, inviting mouth, he smiled secretly. "Might as well get this out of the way."

Releasing her wrists, he ran both hands under her skirt, gripped her hips and pulled her further off the ground to rock against his thigh. When her toes left the ground, she grabbed blindly for his shoulders and hung on as his hands guided her, controlled her, rocked her to her peak. His lips caught her low-throated moan as it rose to a helpless cry, and lowered her to the ground, ending the kiss, when her shudders calmed.

His hands remained cupped under her ass, and as the endorphins fled, uncomfortably reminded her of the tenderness of the skin. Squirming away from him, she dropped to the ground to retrieve her panties and hide the blush that bloomed on her face.

"What do you think you're doing?" He quietly asked.

"Uhmm. Leaving." She stood, silk crushed in one fist, staring at his shoes.

"We're not finished."

Her head snapped up and she stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless.

"My intent is that you leave me – each time – thoroughly spanked. Not thoroughly sated."

He watched her blush deepen. Sitting on the edge of his desk once more, he stated flatly, "Let's try this again, shall we?"

"Ohhh." She whispered in embarrassment.

Stepping to him, she avoided his eyes as he placed her once more across his strong thigh.

Gaara looked at her rounded, flesh, his hand prints recognizable but fading, and decided something brief but shocking was in order. Opening a drawer, he pulled out the light paddle reserved for recalcitrant females and lifted it.

Smack! The paddle cracked loudly, startling her. Before the sting fully formed, it landed again, forcing a cry and creating an enormous burning sensation. Six times he struck her, in quick succession, for the shock value and the pain he knew she needed. Setting down the paddle, he held her across his knee until her cries subdued, knowing the fear of another smack added to her humiliation. Knowing she needed – had specifically asked for – retribution. When he released her, she stood, eyes streaming before him, as shocked as she had been the first time he'd spanked her. She nearly forgot her orgasm. His kiss. Nearly, but not quite.

"One visit. Before your first class. Behave and you'll only feel my hand on you. Misbehave – and by that I mean come to me even the smallest bit sexually excited – and you'll feel this paddle. Do you understand?"

His words, his tone, but mostly his look, kept her from asking, but she thought it. Loudly.

Will you touch me again, make me come, if I misbehave? And wincing at the throbbing pain she was currently experiencing, wondered if it would be worth it.

Deciding a quick escape was her best bet, she murmured, "Yes, sir," picked up her things and fled. She had the entire night ahead of her to analyze this. The entire night to think of him. Remember him. Fantasize about him.

She wondered if he'd think about her.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**WARNING!**

**Characters Age:**

** Hinata Hyuuga17 years old**

** Sabaku no Gaara28 years old**

** Sarutobi 60 years old retired**

**Now, on with the story.**

* * *

Hinata slept on her stomach that night, her mind churning with bewildering and erotic dreams. Just prior to waking up, she was dreaming she was naked against a cold, stone wall, wrists tied together and pulled above her head, her heart pounding in her ears. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him moving slowly towards her. Angry at her helpless position, she turned her head away from him and closed her eyes.

His deep voice sent heat through her center. "Open your eyes, Hinata."

Stubbornly, she ignored his request. After a tense silence, she felt his hands on her waist spinning her around to face the wall. One large hand dropped to cup her sex and pull her bottom half away from the wall, lightly lifting her to her toes. She held her breath, knowing she would feel his hard hand on her bare bottom any second, half excited, half fearful.

The slap jarred her senses and forced her to press forward into his cupped hand. His fingers curled around her, making her squirm restlessly as another wicked slap landed. He spanked her hard and fast, evidently with the intent on turning every inch of her buttocks bright red. As her skin warmed and then began to burn, she felt a wetness growing between her thighs and drip onto his fingertips. A small sob of mingled shame and pain escaped her.

The next sensation shocked her. His middle finger, large and thick, curled into her wetness and reached inside her, finding and pressing on a spot that caused her body to tighten up and hum. The jerking motion of her pelvis in reaction to the relentless spanking caused his hand and fingers to stimulate her both inside and out and as the feelings built to their peak, she tossed her head back and helplessly cried out with the strongest climax she'd ever had.

When her alarm went off, her body was still humming and covered in sweat.

Lifting her hands to her deep blush, she found herself praying her body wouldn't be so cruel as to betray her the next time he touched her.

Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday of the week flew by, each morning a study in self-control for her. She felt certain he never knew of her quick trips to the restroom throughout the day that helped relieve the sexual tension he built each morning with his brief, but thorough, punishment.

Now, Friday, she stood outside his door, searching for the nerve to knock. Hand raised in a fist, she tried to imagine what a normal spanking from him would feel like. She couldn't imagine his hand falling any harder, and the 30 seconds was at times more than she could take. Stomach tightened in fear, she flinched when the door opened and stood frozen in his powerful gaze.

Raising his non-existent brows, he took in her pale, frightened countenance and guessed its cause. Stepping back he motioned her inside, before locking the door.

Pulling a straight backed chair from the front of his desk to the center of the room, he unbuttoned and began rolling up the sleeves to his white dress shirt, watching her dance from foot to foot, as her eyes roamed around the room, avoiding coming into contact with him.

"Are you nervous?" He politely asked.

Her eyes flew to his, round and brilliant with unshed tears.

"Yes," she replied in a barely audible voice.

"Why?" His penetrating look seemed to bore through her eyes into her deepest thoughts.

"I .. I'm trying to imagine 15 minutes over your knee when I can barely handle 30 seconds." Panic laced her tone.

He watched two tear drops fall to slide down her cheeks. "I never said anything about 15 minutes."

Hopefully, she asked, "How long, then?"

"Until I decide to stop." His bland tone bristled her nerves.

"Well, how long is that?" She frowned and stopped just short of stomping her foot.

Stepping towards her, he firmly gripped both shoulders and lowered his head to hold her gaze. "When your bottom is sore, throbbing and cherry red. When every breath you exhale comes out in a remorseful, tearful plea for me to stop. When I'm certain you'll feel the sting until you lay down to sleep tonight, and it intrudes and colors your dreams."

She felt the rush of color to her cheeks and dropped her eyes quickly.

"Or has it, already?" The question, posed quietly in his silky, deep-toned voice, caused her blush to deepen. When she attempted to pull away from him, he laughed softly, and tugged her over to the chair.

Sitting, he grasped her waist and forced her to fall forward across his knees.

With her hands and feet touching the floor, she felt her skirt lifted, followed by a quick tug on her panties that sent them to her knees. Somehow in this position, with her bare ass elevated, she felt more helpless than she had to date. His large hand pressing against her lower back kept her firmly in place, and she felt a sob catch in her throat before he had laid a hand on her.

Eyeing her fair skin speculatively, he began to pepper her rounded cheeks with light and stinging smacks, watching her skin tone turn slowly pink and her cries quiet down as she realized the pain was no where as bad as she'd anticipated. Minutes later, the blows began to land a little harder and quicker. Her skin – now tenderized – felt each slap magnified, and she felt the sting begin to build to a slow burn. Within moments, the pain became too much, and she squirmed desperately to avoid his hand. Aiming his hand carefully with each slap, he discovered new tender spots to attack, each connection of his hand forcing a shocked gasp and cry from her. Panic began to creep along her spine as she began to fear the spanking would never end.

"Pleeeeease … pleeeeease …. Please …… stop! STOP!" Her soft voice raised an octave and ended on a sob.

Ignoring her protests, he continued until he felt certain any further abuse would bruise her skin. Lifting her up, he turned and placed her sobbing in his arms, her cries escalating when her burning flesh rested on his strong thighs. With his arms around her, his hand gently rubbing her back, she made no effort to hold back and sobbed uncontrollably. The pain was overpowering, and merged with the feelings of remorse that rushed over her. She kept picturing her parents' pale and terrified faces at the hospital, and the nervous way they tiptoed around her feelings afterwards. She'd done this to them. She'd caused them unbelievable mental pain.

As her cries grew stronger, he knew she was dealing with guilt up close and personal. Sometimes it took something shocking the senses to uncover the pain inside. And, from his experience, release it.

Long moments passed as he held her, rocking her like a child until her tears stopped and cries quieted. When the weight of her head against his chest became heavy, he knew she'd fallen asleep in exhaustion. Thankful for the small sofa by the window, he lifted and gently placed her to on the cushions, reaching and covering her with his jacket.

Walking to his desk, he buzzed the Administration office line. "Please inform Hinata Hyuuga's first period teacher that she will be assisting the office this morning. Thank you."

He quietly hung up the phone and sat down, tenting his fingers between his eyes to study her curled, sleeping form. Thoughts dark and forbidden brought a glint into his eyes, and sent blood rushing through his veins. There was something about her. Something challenging that brought out his baser instincts. Along with a strong urge to protect her. He hadn't had these feelings in years. The thought kept him staring at her, lost in memory, long after the bell rang for the next class period.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

**WARNING!**

**Characters Age:**

** Hinata Hyuuga17 years old**

** Sabaku no Gaara28 years old**

** Sarutobi 60 years old retired**

**Now, on with the story.**

Hinata woke with a start, a mild headache throbbing as she sat upright on the sofa and discovered an even worse throbbing. Laying her face in her hands, she felt the heated blush as she relived the terrible spanking. She winced at the thought of ever repeating it, and wondered how she could extract herself from the situation. Her next thought, of him carefully cradling her in his arms as she cried, made her limbs weaken. And the rapid rush of blood to her center at the thought of his hypnotic eyes, and strength, took over. Shutting her eyes, she felt lethargy fill her, and lying back down, reached a hand under her skirt touched herself intimately.

Her soft moan floated to the perked ears of the man quietly sitting in his leather chair, watching her through half closed eyes. He watched as he heard the blood rush to his ears. He watched as his cock sprang to life. He watched as her moans increased to tease him. He watched as she sweetly reached her peak and writhed in innocent joy less than six feet from him.

"You realize this takes our relationship to a whole new level." At the sound of his deep voice, she jumped up from the couch like a startled cat. Her look of embarrassment warring with incredulity was priceless. Anger seeped in and took over. Rushing at him, she leaned over and poked a finger to his chest, too upset to notice his own shallow breathing or heightened color.

"How dare you! You … you … you … peeping Gaara!" Tossing her arms up in frustration, she squeaked when he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her down on his lap. Catching her hands before they got her into more trouble, he took a steadying breath, and spoke to her slowly.

"Whose office is this? Yours or mine?" He watched her stammer briefly before mumbling a reply.

"I'll take that as a 'yours'," he smiled slightly taking in her subtle pout. Raising a hand, he lifted her chin and forced her to look at him.

Flushing further under his scrutiny, she found herself squirming uncomfortably on his lap. And then freezing as the side of her hip brushed against his restrained erection. Awareness of his need left her nearly breathless, and her eyes dropped to his mouth, her pink tongue darting out to lick her parted lips with artless seduction.

Feeling his own heart rate increase, his forced a calm tone. "Hinata. Hinata. Look at me."

Panting softly, she raised her eyes. The heat of his glance nearly made her bones melt, and she felt the oddest sensation of slithering from his lap.

"Are you a virgin?" His low, voice rumbled and sent goose-bumps over her skin.

It took a moment for his question to filter through. Widening her eyes, she bit her lip and slowly shook her head no.

She felt his deep sigh of pleasure with a sense of giddiness. And when he stood, taking her hand to lead her to the sofa, followed him obediently. Sitting on the couch, he pulled her down to straddle him, moving one hand up her back, pressed her forward into his deep kiss. Her soft moans shot through him and he reached below her skirt to hold and squeeze her rounded warmed cheeks, relishing her soft gasps. When she began to thrust invitingly against him, he gave in and quickly unzipped and released his now enormous erection. Moving one hand between her thighs, he felt her readiness, and placed himself at her entrance.

When strong hands gripped her hips and thrust her down on him, she tried to repress the cry of shocked pain and tilted her head up to avoid his sharp glance.

He felt her impossible tightness and a tearing sensation at the same time he heard her cry and froze, the ache in his balls throbbing painfully. With inhuman effort he sat immobile, feeling her body shake, seeing the tears run down the side of her face. Reaching up, he wrapped a hand around her hair and held her still, lust and anger battling in his ferocious glare.

"It's too late to stop now. God damn it. God damn it!" And dropping his hand, moved them to grab her vice-like around her waist. He moved her up and down over his throbbing cock, swallowing her cries in his mouth, and increasing speed to reach his climax as soon as possible.

The feeling of being impaled and stretched, as his tongue and lips held her captive, nearly overwhelmed her. When she heard his deep growl and felt herself slammed repeated down onto him, she knew it was over.

Hands still on her waist, he hung his head as his breath returned to normal. When he felt her shift to move off of him, he kept her firmly in place, still connected, encasing him.

If ever one of his looks had made her squirm, they paled in comparison to the dead stare he now gave her.

Choking on a sob, she sat, feeling his still large presence inside her, wishing he would hurry, hurry and do whatever awful thing he would so she could run away and lick her wounds.

"Why?" His soft spoken word did not match the lethal glare.

When her eyes dropped, he shook her forcing a wince.

"Why did you lie to me?"

Sniffing loudly, she stuttered, "Because … I wanted to. I wanted to with you. And, I knew you wouldn't if I told her I never had." Her explanation ended on the petulant tone of a child.

"You're damn right I wouldn't have." He kept his eyes on her face, thinking dark thoughts to himself. Tilting his head he asked, "Did you think this would break the agreement? That your spankings would stop?"

Biting her lip, she tried to think clearly, but her squirming was creating odd sensations deep inside of her and she felt his occassional twitch in response. When his hands shifted her up and down briefly, she gasped, and answered haltingly. "No. Uhmmm. I don't think so."

"Because they won't." His bland look sent a thrill through her.

"In fact," his hands gripped and started moving her slowly, sweetly over his growing erection, "It just adds a new element."

She felt lost in his eyes as he grew inside her, throbbing, stretching, but this time, without pain. Hands positioned over her hips and belly, he silently tutored her into a swaying, movement that slid him in and out of her with liquid heat. A feeling deep inside began to build, and sitting back, he relaxed his hands and watched her move at her own pace. When her eyes rolled into her head and he felt the flutter and tightness wrap around him, he caught her sweet cry of release in his mouth, and moved to lay her below him on the couch. Chest heaving, she watched him settle between her thighs and begin to move with rapid, deep thrusts that smacked against her clit and send sharp spikes of pleasure through her. His guttural moans of release flew to her ears and she wrapped her arms and legs tightly around him.

He sighed deeply into her neck and pulled back to look gently at her. "That's not how your first time should have been."

She looked at him with flushed cheeks. "It's everything I could have wanted."

Looking at her, he felt a sense of inexplicable peace, and wrapping her in his arms, turned to hold her.

And think.


End file.
